A Thousand Times Goodbye
by Ihsan997
Summary: Caledith, the matriarch of a rural night elf family, struggles to maintain the ties that bind despite her people's duty to the balance of nature. Across three generations and nine millennia, that struggle defines their lives; as it reaches its conclusion, they must come to terms with the lack of direction brought by freedom of choice. 5 chapters.
1. -9,000

_Nine thousand years ago._

Fall hadn't yet settled in, and only a few of the gigantic leaves fell from the canopy to the forest floor. Purple and green were the colors of the Ashenvale canopy, and stone grey along with dark brown colored the trunks. Rising high above and blotting out the sky, the trees had become their entire world over the past thousand years. They all felt tiny next to the living beings their people had been charged to protect, but they were very much in tune with all the trees and nature they found around them. The corruption their people had just finished battling had pained them down into their very bones, and thus they could feel the remaining effects as it all melted and died away.

En masse, the night elves marched across the grass; the trees were so large that there was ample space in between, and crowds from various different villages all converged at one hill. High atop the earthen hill, Raynewood tower served as a beacon as sentinels and druids from every sacred grove in the province all gathered at the regional capitol, having already completed their first ever farewell ritual.

Hundreds of faces, most of them somber, many of them sad filled the area as families met for the inevitable splitting apart. The balance of nature demanded much of its defenders, and the children of the stars found themselves giving up that which they held the most dear for the sake of their duty. Their decision was unflinching and unquestioning, but painful nonetheless.

A trio of elves from a certain unnamed grove in the southwest corner of Nightsong Woods found an empty patch of grass on the land overlooked by the tower, forming a triangle to say their goodbye. An archer led her daughter to the spot where they would tell the man of the household goodbye for a very long time. The men were given no more choice than the women; all were either druids or, in a few cases, the guards of barrow dens where the druids slept and communed with nature. Their world would be entirely based on a dream, the Emerald Dream, far removed from the harsh reality faced by the women who were suddenly thrust into the position of warriors and leaders of a militant society; talk of a Long Vigil, an eternal wait as they paid back their debt to nature in return for the immortality they'd been given, had already begun. And as the archer held the hand of her druid of the talon, a certain sadness passed between them.

Caledith regarded her husband with as much softness as their elven refinery and newfound militarism would allow. "I never thought this day would come," she murmured, enjoying his warmth as the two of them stood close.

Although the moon was beginning to set and daybreak was upon them, much of the light from above was blotted out by the canopy. Shadows were cast over his face naturally, just barely obscuring his eyes despite the amber glow that had begun to mark his growing power. "So much has taken our people by surprise, my love. When we first met, I would not have believe it had I been informed of what would eventually happen to the world." He ran his thumb over the top of her hand as he held it, and there was a strain in his features as well.

"So what is to become of us, then? Our family? Are we to be separated forever?" she asked, not so much distraught as almost frustrated by the task laid out before them.

"Impossible...the Burning Legion will not wait forever," he replied in a grave tone. "And when the time comes that our planet is besieged again, we will awake...and we will come back to you again. I hope that, even through such a long period of time...you're willing to wait-"

"Stop it! Don't talk like that!" Her tone was a mixture of sadness, shock and good humor, and she laughed while wanting to cry inside as well. "Even if I must wait an eternity, I will do so if we can be together again. Plus..." A wry smile worked its way across Caledith's mouth. "...there aren't exactly any other men around to tempt me, either."

"I think I've found an escaped demon right here," he chuckled in response. "Someone needs to inform the priestess that not all of the satyrs were caught."

Smirking in defiance at being the butt of his joke, she squeezed his hand back, pressing her thumbnail into his palm in revenge. The two of them shared another moment before Caledith turned to their daughter, Cioniel; the woman was already over two thousand years but neither mature nor independent. At least one part of their family would remain alongside Caledith in the waking world.

"Cio, come say goodbye to your father."

Shy at first, the younger elf eventually stepped forward. Though her face was like her father, her skin and hair were the exact same shade as her mother's, and she was very much still a dependent member of the household. Bowing respectfully before the man, she held her composure surprisingly well despite her somewhat deficient mental faculties. "Goddess watch over you, father," the woman said while formally bowing.

He returned her bow politely, returning her formality despite himself. "And you as well, Cioniel," he replied. When he saw the sentimental look Caledith was giving him, he pulled the woman of the household - now the head of the household, according to their society's new rules - closer to him for what would be the last time for a long time. "For three thousand years, we have endured, Caledith. We survived the War of the Ancients; we survived the Sundering; and now, we've just survived the Satyr War. We will survive this as well."

Her ears drooped even though she knew the government of their people encouraged such beliefs among them. "I know," she replied, only half certain of what she'd just said. Eschewing a formal bow to instead peck him on the cheek conservatively, she stepped away and looked at the grass between their feet, unable to meet his eyes. "Goddess, light your path," she murmured again, finding herself unable to say anything more.

Whether he was overtaken by emotion as well or simply found nothing more to add, be merely reciprocated the kiss on the cheek and stepped away. There were no attempts to tilt her chin up in his fingers and lie to her, or to falsely minimize the gravity of the task that nature had laid upon their shoulders. In the quickest and easiest way possible, he walked away, joining the droves of men who were led away by their local archdruid toward the various barrow dens that they would find themselves sleeping inside for goddess knew how long.

Left behind was a sea of women - mothers, daughters, sisters, wives, cousins, all walks of life mixed in to the crowd. They'd all known this time was coming the moment their people chose the path of the balance rather than the arcane in order to put Queen Azshara's machinations to an end; the call of nature for the menfolk to enter the dream realm had not come suddenly or as a surprise. But none of them, not one, was truly ready for the separation. For the first and last time, the night elves shed tears as their two societal halves bid each other farewell. In a sea of glowing silver eyes, Cionel put her arm around her mother's shoulder as she watched her father disappear into the forest, leaving them alone for an indeterminable amount of time.


	2. -7,300

_Seven thousand and three hundred years ago._

All along the hill beneath Raynewood Tower, the sea of night elves waited. Weary, tired and beaten, the women gathered at one side of the hill, many of them still exhausted from the forcible exile of the highborne. The mana storms unleashed by practitioners of arcane magic decimated untold miles of forest, and even a number of villages on Mount Hyjal had been affected. For their part, the Kaldorei of southwestern Nightsong Woods had been in charge of capturing any stragglers among the magi and shipping them to the east coast of the continent for their exile. Everyone had a role to play, and nobody had been left unaffected by the conflict.

Food was grown mostly with the aid of the druids living inside the Emerald Dream; little labor was needed in order for the forest crops of berries, nuts and tubers to grow, and only minimal effort was needed to prepare the food. Materially, all the buildings were grown naturally inside nearly sentient trees, and even their personal belongings were forged for them by wisps. Served by nature, the night elves served right back; every evening that they woke up signaled another night of monitoring and protecting the forest, the same monotonous actions repeated again and again. And when the balance was threatened by outside forces, the reality of their militant society impressed upon them the need for efforts such as those they'd just engaged in.

All of them, every last one, was tired. The women of the Kaldorei were archers, huntresses, nightblades, wardens, outriders and siege operators. A few were chosen as priestesses, armored warrior clerics a far cry from what their people had known in their previous life, on the banks of the First Well of Eternity. Battered, weathered, tempered and tested, the women that stood on that hill had changed irreversibly since they'd been left on their own more than two millennia before. They all had stories to tell – those who had survived, at least – and most of those stories weren't particularly pleasant.

One such family of three knew that all too well as they waited. Caledith picked an empty spot of grass among the other warriors of the night, waiting for the return of the man she'd bid farewell on that very spot so long ago. Three long shocks of hair wafted in the light breeze, all of them a vibrant shade of ultramarine – a rare color even among their people. Her same cyan skin marked the two younger elves as her daughters, but their facial features were very much from their father…if only he knew the younger of the two existed.

Cioniel, nearly five millennia old herself but not entirely competent, waited behind their mother alongside Radriel – younger and immature despite her own great age, but very much aware of her surroundings.

The youngest of the three flexed her fingers rhythmically to work out the nervousness. "Mother…do you think he'll be happy to see me?" Radriel asked, a rare display of unease from the otherwise confident youngblood.

In truth, Caledith had no idea how her husband would react. For the first time, their menfolk were waking up from their dream world to help defend the balance; for the first time, they would visit the womenfolk again. There was no precedent for this at all, and despite the uncountable summers that had passed, Caledith realized that their reborn society was still new in its own, immortal sort of way.

"Yes, of course, dear," the mother elf replied, halfway sure and thus convinced that it wasn't technically a lie. "Your sister is a medium infantrywoman, and you're a fine archer, perhaps more skilled than me-"

"No, mother, don't say that!"

"-and you've upheld all that our society has come to expect of us. I can't imagine anything more pleasing to a proper child of the stars." Unsure herself, Caledith realized that she was also trying to convince herself, but stayed silent.

A small amount of commotion rang out among the crowd – it wasn't particularly loud, but it was noticeable. Slowly, like the waves of another sea meeting and mixing, the men came. Over the hill, the local archruid that had been designated as the leader of the men in Raynewood province led the other half of the society. Ancient and perhaps a bit tired like the women, the men walked slowly, and both sides were as quiet and reserved as elves ought to be despite the painful separation they'd all endured. Some of them took the form of crows that descended from the trees, some of them took the form of bears that plodded in heavy steps across the grass, some of them took the form of sabres that stalked through the bushes, all of them transforming into the wild, long bearded men that had become the stewards of plant life. A minority even walked normally and shouldered weapons similar to the women, the guards who protected and served the sleeping druids in the barrow dens, but even those men were duty bound and had endured the same separation from their families for so long.

Even when the two sides drew near, nobody rushed forward or threw their arms around each other; no matter the pain of having been pulled apart, no matter the joy of being together again for an unfairly short visitation, their culture forced them to bottle up so much inside. And indeed, it was much: the faces of those who found no loved ones to reunite with told those stories. After the War of the Ancients, the male population decreased dramatically, as the men had been the fighters back then; though the ratio was imbalanced, it was no longer so dramatically so as so many women had perished during the absence of the men, fighting whatever local, non-epidemic threats assaulted their land and people in the interim between the Satyr War and the exile of the highborne.

Added to the fact that the mana storms recently unleashed had ended the lives of both women and men who had fought to contain them, and the result was that some people had nobody to visit. Lost and heartbroken, the faces of those who failed to find their families was agonizing to see, and many of them simply wandered back into the woods when they realized that nobody would be waiting for them anymore.

It would have been dishonest to say that Caledith hadn't feared the same thing, until she saw him. A dark, dark blue storm crow toward the back of the column of returning men soared in her direction, slowing to a more respectful speed as it came to land. Green light flashed before them, and even when the man she'd married long before the discovery of arcane magic and their people's fall from grace stood before her, the two of them hesitated. She detested the behavior foisted upon them; she absolutely did. Every ounce of her being wished to rush forward and embrace him, to feel that warmth again, and every ounce of her being was denied as she followed the lead of the others, merely stepping forward formally and bowing her head to receive a kiss on the cheek – which was still viewed as outlandish by several of her peers in the area.

"Ishnu alah," she whispered to him, fighting against a swirl of emotion that risked toppling the cold, objective persona she'd built in order to deal with the monotony.

Two bright amber eyes met her silvers as he looked down on her. His hair and beard were both long but seemed to have been washed and trimmed recently, as if he'd worked hard on his appearance for her sake despite the harrowing experience all their people had just survived. "Isnhu dal dieb," he replied in a low voice, failing to suppress his smile. His eyes drifted up to Cioniel, the daughter that had been by their side long before the Sundering, who wore the medium armor of her profession. He returned her greeting warmly, but looked upon Radriel curiously – a young women whom he didn't know but who had his nose, his chin, his eyes.

Despite having been born after the Long Vigil had begun, Radriel was less than two millennia old, and practically a youngling in a society where nobody died of natural causes. A vulnerability that Caledith would be sure to scold her for later worked its way across Radriel's features as she nervously adjusted her quiver and bow to look as perfect as Captain Ironwood, their commanding officer, would expect her to look.

"Are you my father?" Radriel asked in a way that was far too soft.

He blinked and looked perplexed for a moment, almost disbelieving what he was seeing. Turning to Caledith, he found his wife's expression cold and a bit irritated, and she hoped she wouldn't have to state the obvious. After a few seconds he understood. "Yes…my child. What you've said is true."

Amused by the whole situation, Cioniel laughed at her younger sister but fell silent when Caledith sent both daughters a hard look. "We are honored to see you again, father," Cioniel said after falling back into line. "Allow us to prepare the sabres so that we may return home, for the ride will last all of the night, and the following day, and part of the next night."

"Of course, my child. Elune bless you both." He watched the two youngbloods walk away until he and his wife had their privacy again, and then turned to her with an expectant expression.

Caledith frowned, causing the long scar leading from her left collar bone across part of her neck and then skipping up to her jaw to turn. "You left your barrow den for the Satyr War, and remained with us for but a year," she explained in an uncharacteristically direct manner. "It was a pitifully short amount of time, but…nature took its course."

"And…she was born just after I left?"

"Another year. We delivered her at the grove, raised her, trained her through her coming of age trials, and for all this time she's been waiting to meet you." A measure of bitterness worked its way into Caledith's tone, and while it was directed at their situation rather than him, she knew that her newfound roughness from her lifestyle made him feel cornered. "There is much that none of you know, forever slumbering in your chambers. Life continues here in the world."

Pensive and cautious, he regarded the hardened, insensitive woman before him that was so different from the person he'd married. "May the goddess forever bless you for the burden you've accepted," he whispered, wrapping his hand around hers for the first time in over a thousand years.

That touch brought so much back. So much longing, so much desire, but also so much acrimony as she remembered the instructions that the High Priestess had passed on through all the local priestesses. "And is it true, then? That you all will remain with us for another year before returning to your dens?"

The two of them stood there, playing out a tense scene that repeated itself among so many of the older couples, completely unknown to the youngbloods Radriel's age who were suddenly and excitedly meeting people of the opposite gender for the first time in their lives. Sorrow broke through in his voice rather than defiance toward her, causing her to feel guilty for her harshness.

"My love…were it my choice, I'd be with you from here to eternity. But I am but one leaf on the tree; I am no more able to disobey orders than are you," he whispered almost apologetically. "Caledith, please…let us value the next year that we have. Our time is so fleeting…"

Proud like every warrior of the night, she found it difficult to simply agree, keeping her hand stiff inside of his as they walked after their daughters. She wanted so badly to answer to apologize for her stiff posture, for her overall roughness that she no longer knew how to simply shut off in his presence, but instead she chose silence. Perhaps the ride back to their village for the next year would allow her to clear her mind. They had so much time…yet so little time.


	3. -1,000

_One thousand years ago._

Although there were no paved roads in northern Kalimdor, there were plenty of forested paths recognized by the initiated. None of them were beaten; in a holy land such as theirs, the grass and undergrowth on the forest floor simply regenerated too quickly, and any patches of kicked up dirt or overturned stones were promptly and naturally returned to their natural state. Winding and twisting among the trees, the paths were dark and cavernous, and the younger generations often needed to practice navigating them for centuries before they were capable of doing so on their own.

On that particular night, so late that the morning was not too far off, a group of seven wound their way through the darkness of Nightsong Woods, working their way toward the capitol of Raynewood province. A year after the containment of the insectoid threat in Silithus, many of the children of the stars were still struggling to rebuild. At every crisis, the men awoke and rejoined their women; at every crisis, brave warriors of the night died; and at every crisis, new warriors of the night were born anew as the pairings reunited for their unfairly short trysts. For a race of immortal beings, fertility rates were low, and the rate of replacement was slow. Pressure was mounting, and the older generations did their best to assist nature as it took its course, hoping that future generations would continue to be born. The window was so short, and so unexpected; Elune left behind no texts explaining what sort of crises would beset the planet and when. Each time that the two halves of the race united again, that reunion came as a surprise, one that was often bittersweet.

Four elven women rode atop their black sabres, leading the way as their long journey to the meeting hill drew near to its end. Above them, a storm crow flew low to the ground, followed by an elven man riding noble stag keeping pace with the sabres and one brown bear trying its best to keep up. The group was uncharacteristically chatty for a group of elves, and more than once the matriarch of the small, budding clan had to slow down to remind her youngers of propriety and restraint.

In a smaller patch of woods within the larger forest, the canopy hung lower, and a sort of double layer could be seen just as they reached the clearing that marked their destination. Barely poking up in the enclosed sky above them, Raynewood Tower's arches could be seen, and the group came to a halt. The crow and bear shifted into elven form, and the man riding a stag descended as all the women dismounted their sabres. For a year, they'd all been able to live a semblance of what their people's lives were once like, long before the forces of evil had beset their planet. That year, like so many before it, had come to an end.

Radriel joined the young man that had been riding the stag, while Viniel – the newest addition to the family – joined her bearish companion. Gone were the rites of marriage that Caledith had performed with her husband. In a society where the women and men only reunited once every few thousand years or so, and where those reunions were always preceded by great crises that created many widows and widowers, there was no need for elaborate promises or rituals. When the younger generations found a suitable mate, they were generally very blunt when expressing their interest, and any formality had been tossed aside even when that typical elven restraint had been retained. It was no wonder: even though Radriel and Viniel had met suitable men this time, they couldn't be sure that they would ever see each other again; thus, even for immortals, there was no time to waste.

Before leaving to gain some privacy of their own, the youngest two daughters turned to their father.

"It was an honor to be with you once again, father," Radriel said with a polite bow. "I hope that we are able to see you many more times in the future."

"If the goddess agrees," the old man chuckled good naturedly, doing his best to play off Caledith's cold, hard gaze aimed down at the ground.

Viniel, who barely knew the man she'd heard so much about, managed to keep her composure save the sadness in her furrowed brow. "I am…I am so happy that I finally met you, father," she said in a flat tone but a little more quietly than Radriel. "I will pray for you every single day."

"Know that my thoughts are always with you, children; even when I slumber." Despite the irony of referring to his ancient daughters as children, they seemed to understand, and they all made sure to bow lower than him as they bid their brief farewells.

After little fanfare or ceremony, Radriel and Viniel left separately with their mates, likely seeking secluded spots to share tearful last words with the first unrelated men either of them had ever known. Cioniel, the oldest daughter and the one who had grown up with her parents in an entirely different eon, wasn't so lucky. Though she possessed the power, speed and looks of her sisters, nature hadn't blessed her with the rest of the family's intellect, and until then she had yet to successfully attract a mate. Pouting for more reasons than one as she bowed to her father, she left to mingle with a sizeable mixed group of night elves from other groves, preferring to at least see old friends she might not meet again for another few centuries, depending on troop rotations.

Finally alone, Caledith shooed the sabres away as she felt able to speak freely to her husband. Or at least as freely as their social mores would allow. There was a hesitation in his movement that she hadn't felt before, but instead of reassuring her, it only increased Caledith's agitation.

She looked up at him, attempting to steel her nerve even as she could tell he didn't wish for a confrontation. Guilt nipped at her heels but her pride was too great, and she felt she was locked in some sort of competition against no one. "Other druids stay awake," she stated firmly though not quite rudely, remaining stiff before him in contrast to the almost relaxed demeanor her daughters had displayed around their mates.

At first he tried to avoid her gaze, but eventually locked eyes with her again. "I know," he replied plainly, not providing any argument.

"The various orders require some members to remain in this world, tending to administrative issues and organizing the apportionment of resources between the barrow dens."

Not argumentative so much as defensive, he attempted to provide some sort of explanation. "They still remain at the dens; they are separated from their families as well."

"But they're still awake, and sentinels occasionally pass by the dens on during their rotations," she countered, staring at him and not allowing him any way to gracefully excuse himself.

"Women still aren't actually allowed on the premises of the dens any more than men are allowed inside of the groves during peacetime-"

" _Don't patronize me_ ," she hissed in an uncouth way that even shocked her. He recoiled, and the guilt bit her hard as she saw how offended he was. Gulping and trying frantically to think of the right thing to say without actually apologizing, she spoke as freely as she had in a long time. "The specific solution doesn't matter; there has to be a way. We don't have to think of it now, tonight, but there must be a way. Because this," she said pointedly while motioning toward a group of men who were already leaving to return to their slumber, "is not a solution."

Looking rather contrite, her husband seemed like a man who felt like he was out of ideas. Even after an entire year they'd spent together following the War of the Shifting Sands, he still never reacted to her hostility in kind. "When I arrive…I will speak to our provincial archdruid," he replied, though by the look on his face she knew that he was skeptical about his chances. "I will ask if there's any way…I will try to find something. But our time is short…either way, I must leave now."

Angry at both him and herself, Caledith just folded her arms and looked down at her bare feet again, too wound up to say anything more. As if their parting couldn't be any more difficult, he broke every rule of self control they'd been taught; even his voice sounded soft despite its deep tone.

"I love you," he whispered.

When he heard no response, he walked away, taking slow, sad steps before she shifted and flew off, joining the flock of the other druids of the talon as he disappeared into the dwindling twilight. Caledith remained standing there for a long time, just wishing that life could go back to the usual monotonous routine and she could bury her feelings for a good few hundred years. Maybe then she could revisit how she felt, and sort herself out mentally in preparation for a better visitation next time.

"I love you too," she murmured to the air as she found herself without even the sabres for company.


	4. 22

_Ten years ago_.

Loss. Gain. Two opposites defined the children of the stars so strongly as they all congregated. Perhaps a hundred thousand people – for that was their entire population, unlike the younger lived races – had mobilized to defend all that they held sacred during the Third War. Maybe half of their forces had been mustered by the high priestess to defend Nordrassil, while the rest continued to defend the highways naturally grown to facilitate movement of troops and materiel. Whereas the night elves had fought against both the Alliance and the Horde at first, they eventually ended up accepting both factions as temporary allies for the greater good. And that greater good led to so much gain, yet so much loss.

To state that the Battle of Mount Hyjal changed everything was an almost comical understatement. Having sacrificed the World Tree to save the planet, their people had become mortal again. They would grow feeble again; they would die naturally again. And as Caledith led the other women of her clan toward the capitol of the province – they'd been tasked with staying behind and ensuring that the human and orcish allies of the Sentinels could reach Hyjal in time – she felt it deeper than she'd felt anything before.

It was painful. When the World Tree first fell, all of the night elves found it physically painful. For many of the older individuals such as herself, her eyes even stopped glowing for a few minutes before slowly returning to normal. They all cheered regardless, knowing instinctively that Archimonde had been defeated, but they felt the changes nonetheless. Even though it hadn't been three days since the battle and thus the war had ended, word had spread quickly; in their wisdom, the government of the Kaldorei had deemed it time to sacrifice that which had defined their lives for so long. There was no turning back; they would all grow old and die eventually, but they would have the right to choose their paths in life as well.

Gain and loss, freedom and duty. No longer would the women be assigned groves or the men assigned dens based on utilitarian need; no longer would they merely be tools of nature having their professions, residences, and entire paths in life decided for them. As mortals, they would live as the other races that were now their equals, choosing where they went and what they did. Three days in, and rumors spread like wildfire in a society that supposedly considered accuracy and precision paramount. The time to be free had truly begun, and the duty they once carried alone was now to be shared alongside the other races of the world as well.

Old enough to know when to withhold judgment, Caledith didn't have to fake her patience with the news of their new condition. Her daughters were as mired in controversy as the rest of their people: Radriel and Viniel were skeptical of the decision, and wondered out loud whether or not there could have been away. Cioniel, who herself was also born before immortality had begun, was facing a preeminent death from natural causes just like Caledith, but having experienced much less of life, was particularly morose ever since they'd received the news.

The two new additions to the family, however, were ecstatic. Upon the last visitation after the war in Silithus, both Caledith and her daughter Radriel had conceived children; as was common, they didn't know until after their men had left, and consequently the two youngest members of the family knew nothing of the man who was a father to one and a grandfather to the other. Silviel, who was Caledith's youngest daughter, scared the others by speaking of joining the Sentinel Navy and sailing across the ocean; Fewen, the daughter of Radriel and thus Caledith's granddaughter, was more reserved but still saw little negative about the change. After all, the two youngest hadn't lived very long, and knew nothing of the dangers of the world aside from the Third War in which many of the outlanders turned out to be allies.

Only when they reached the hill beneath Raynewood Tower was Caledith able to calm all of her youngers down. Three generations of the clan stood, watching similar scenes play out as they had before. In the sea of women, many of them were arguing openly about the massive change in their being that would cause them to die like other peoples; others were seen individually cheering or crying for their release from eternal servitude to nature. And an equally large group appeared unaffected, focusing on simply seeing the men again and enjoying a world where, finally, they no longer needed to be separated.

More than anything, that was what affected Caledith and the women of her grove. Husbands, sons, brothers, fathers, and now even grandfathers and grandsons would no longer be required to slumber their lives away if they didn't want to. It was absolutely the most controversial issue they all faced: how would they adapt? What would society be like with men roaming around as if that were…normal? And as Fewen asked sincerely, despite the raucous laughter of the others, would it become more acceptable for women to sleep in barrow dens? There were supposedly a few who already had, but the thought was still so bizarre and foreign to the majority of them that she remained silent for most of the trip after even her own grandmother laughed at the prospect.

As the group of six all stood on that hill, in a sea of green, purple, blue and even a few silver shocks of hair, the theoretical debates died away; there was something very real facing them now. In the same spot where Caledith had first bid her husband farewell nine millennia before – for the memorized the exact spot despite having stood there only a few times across the thousands of years – she stood and held her clan to wait.

On cue like an opposing sea of green, purple, blue and even silver hair and beards, the men returned for the last time. Unlike all those times before, there was commotion in the crowds, and not for the usual discoveries of who had or hadn't survived the latest crisis. Sighs, gasps and even a few cries of elation rang out, shocking the older individuals by the impropriety as so many families were reunited permanently. It was more than the end of an era; it was an era to end all eras.

Fewen fidgeted as they watched the first wave of women actually walk forward to greet the men. She'd been posted within the province rather than at Hyjal due to lack of experience, and the only males of any race she'd seen were strange looking outlanders who might have actually been women for all she knew. "Oh, look…they're so different!" the youngblood gasped.

Her aunt Viniel chuckled at the statement. "You've seen pictures!"

"But they're different up close," Fewen replied.

Silviel seemed less shy. "There are so many to choose from," she said with an almost predatory smirk.

"Better keep her on a leash, mother," Viniel laughed again.

As the wave approached, a few of the younger men stood by their fathers while their mothers and sisters greeted them. Discerning who was related to who wasn't very difficult; among members of a race whose population was so drastically low, the genetic diversity was equally low, and the skin and hair patterns alone were a dead giveaway. One young man in particular, a druid of the claw from the look of him, stood by a lone tree shyly as his mother walked away with his father. He couldn't have been a day older than Fewen or Silviel, and his beard didn't even measure beyond an inch or so. A number of the younger women flashed him occasional glances before looking away, and Caledith smiled in an almost giddy fashion as she observed the behavior of grown adults who had never met a non-relative of the opposite gender before.

"You'd better go quick," she told her granddaughter quietly.

Fewen looked from the young man to Caledith. "Wh-what do you mean, grandma?" she answered nervously. "I was just looking at the tree."

"It isn't wrong if you like him. But our rules haven't changed yet; if you don't move in, then someone else will."

Radriel, Fewen's mother, joined in the jovial peer pressure as well. "In my day if we saw a man we liked, we didn't worry about talking; we just took him."

"Took…him?"

"That's right. In fact, that's how I met your father," Radriel explained, serving only to increase Fewen's embarrassment and everyone else's amusement. "I had to fight two other sentinels first, too."

More flustered by the minute, Fewen began looking back and forth between her family and the young man until her aunt Viniel intervened out of sympathy for the overwhelmed youngblood. "Your grandfather and uncles will be back soon enough. And this time, they aren't leaving us again. Go. You can catch up with them later, but that fellow might not be available much longer."

Blushing under the attention from all the more senior members of the family, Fewen began to play with her knuckles as she tried to gather up enough courage. "Oh, I don't know…what if he…hey! Aunt Silviel, what are you doing!"

To everyone's shock, Silviel – who was actually a few months younger than her niece – had already started stalking toward the young man. "You snooze, you lose!" she taunted, earning uncomfortable laughter from her sisters and a slight glare from her mother.

After a measure of prodding and encouragement from the others, Fewen sprinted. "Wait, I saw him first!" She didn't even hear the laughter of the others as she and her aunt followed the direction they'd seen the young man leave in, and the others continued their own minor vigil.

More waves of the menfolk returned for their permanent visitations, leading to scenes far more emotional than any that Caledith had witnessed before. Despite her old traditionalism, she found it hard to judge them considering how much she wished for her own reunion. The last time she'd parted with her husband, relations had been frayed. For centuries, she practiced what she would say, how she would explain her actions and what she thought he'd respond with. Now that he'd be coming back to them for good, the inevitable conversation seemed like it would be even easier. For the first time in thousands of years, her heart thumped quickly in her chest.

Among the throngs of men returning, Viniel found her mate first. She'd only met the man a single time and hadn't conceived any children with him, but they'd waited for each other nonetheless. The man was polite enough, but eventually Viniel led him away so they could have a bit of privacy after so much time spent apart. Pride swelled within Caledith as she watched a younger version of herself lead him away, leaving her with only two daughters.

More men came, their numbers less as after every crisis when more widows and widowers were made. A select few people received the bad news from commanding officers, all reacting in different ways, but Caledith tried not to look in order to respect the dignity of others. Eventually Radriel's mate returned, receiving news of the daughter he'd never met joyfully as the third generation of the family was announced. He greeted the others and even referred to Caledith as 'mother,' but eventually Radriel led him away all the same, leaving Caledith to await her husband alongside Cioniel.

More waves of men came, more waves of women led them away. The night dragged on and dwindled, and even when the morning approached, Caledith continued waiting, too proud to ask any commanding officers about his location. She took it as an issue of dignity, refusing to meet the eyes of anyone who passed by as her resentment increased.

"Why is he taking so long?" Caledith asked out loud, irritation already lacing her tone. "The other sisters in in the grove have already received their relatives. This is _embarrassing_."

Uncomfortable but obviously feeling a need to stick up for her father, Cioniel spoke cautiously. "Maybe he has an excuse…Elune teaches to always assume the best."

"He'd better have the best of explanations, then," Caledith replied in agitation. "I've waited far too long. Our time is short; why can't he just get back here?"

More waves came. More people passed by. More familiar faces received their menfolk and left happily, and bit by bit more of the grass on that wide, expansive hill became empty as people left to find their privacy among the dense woodlands. Denial set in strongly as Caledith cursed her husband, hating every word that spilled from her lips but finding no other means to cope.

A storm crow landed before them, but no joy was felt as she recognized the plume as belonging to another man descended from their grove. Uryndil, a druid favored by their village's local priestess, shifted into elven form before them and regarded Caledith with even more caution than Cioniel. As one of her husband's colleagues among the druids of the talon, he was very aware of the location of all their brothers; surely he would bear some sort of news about whatever her husband was up to.

Almost afraid of her as he approached, Uryndil stopped a good distance away and averted his eyes. Caledith's pulse raced and she stiffened in an almost aggressive way as she shook her head at him rapidly.

His body language spoke of the sense of loss even if as she tried to deny it. "The goddess takes whom she wills...and keeps whom she wills," her husband's colleague said, a contrite look on his face.

Never quite as bright as her sisters, Cioniel gave Uryndil an odd look, completely missing the subtle message. For her part, Caledith just shut her eyes, finding that she had no escape from accepting the reality. So many words left unsaid, so many feelings left unexpressed…so much time lost while they were spent apart.

Crushed, devastated and heartbroken, all Caledith could do was nod in affirmation that she'd heard him, shutting her eyes as tightly as she could in order to keep her composure and dignity in public. Maybe if she could give Cioniel some task to keep her busy, Caledith could just run away, deep into the forest where no eyes would see her and collapse. But as Uryndil flew away sadly, and Cioniel tagged behind asking pointless questions, all Caledith could do was walk away slowly, keep her eyes shut and ignore the sounds of the forest around her that had demanded so much of her life.


	5. 30

_Now_.

Caledith stood on the porch, watching the small children chase wisps through the air. Everything was covered in a dark green glow, even the air itself, it seemed. A number of homes had been grown around the Shrine of Remulos by its namesake, though the area was more exclusive than Nighthaven, which was perhaps an hour's ride by sabre. Remulos generally only allowed the oldest scholars of the night elves plus a few emissaries each from the various different races to actually live permanently at his shrine, and virtually all of those individuals except the youngest children were druids. As someone old enough to remember a world before arcane magic, Caledith was one of those few exceptions; the Keeper of that Grove as well as his dryad sisters had also been alive at that time, but they greatly valued a diverse array of experience. A non druid added a perspective in the world and on seeking knowledge that they would otherwise lack, and at least a few times a week, Caledith found herself invited for a meal with the dryads or the Keeper himself - like the Kaldorei, they much preferred to speak about serious matters in that more informal manner.

The benefit to her family was undeniable. Both of her sons in law had recently been assigned to the Stormrage Barrow Dens, just a few hours travel to the east, and even Radriel had taken an interest in her mate's work and been taken in as a volunteer researcher. Viniel worked with the hippogriffs at Nighthaven; it was less related to the profession that Moonglade was known for, but space was so limited and jobs so exclusive that it earned the woman a tremendous amount of respect.

Fewen benefitted the most, however. Since the opening of their people to the world and the reorganizing of the traditional druidic orders into a single body called the Cenarion Circle, women had been setting aside their glaives and arrows and respeccing as druidesses in droves, leaving room for the few men who weren't druids to even become sentinels. The young elf had access to a very exclusive training ground at the shrine, even by Moonglade's standards, and as Caledith watched her commune with a few dryads by a reflection pond, she felt that familiar swell of pride that hit her pleasantly whenever she watched her children - or in this case, her grandchild.

Off in the distance, Caledith watched as a small nightsabre approached. Already recognizing who it was, she smiled as the feral creature shifted in a cloud of green swirls, emerging as Amandil - another woman from their ancestral village of only twenty five people. Like Fewen, she young by their standards, and also like Fewen, had obviously respecced. After some hushed conversation by the pond, she handed Fewen an envelope, waved to Caledith and hurried back, a bag of more envelopes hanging around her neck as she shifted into sabre form again.

Excited as she ran, Fewen didn't even bother opening the envelope as she ran toward the modest, one room house. "Grandma, aunt Silviel wrote again!" the energetic young elf cheered as she nearly slipped while trying to leap into the porch.

Keeping her hands folded behind her back, Caledith smiled as Fewen ripped the envelope open, admiring the youthful zest for life in her granddaughter's eyes. After some time, Fewen bounced on her toes. "Silviel destroyed Ragnaros! Again!"

A warm feeling bubbled up inside Caledith at the new of yet more exploits by her youngest daughter. "That's my girl...may she always remain strong," she hummed. Fewen hugged her for no reason and she chuckled, knowing that the youngblood wouldn't behave in such a way were anybody else there to witness it.

After recomposing herself, Fewen stepped back and looked up at her grandmother. "She's really gone out to see the world?"

"That she has, that she has. I always had a feeling about her, similar to what I feel about you." She ran her hand through Fewen's hair, temporarily forgetting the fact that she was a thousand years old. "One day, I hope that you use what you've learned to see the world as well."

For a few seconds Fewen just smiled, but eventually a bit of emotion worked its way onto her face. "Aunt Cio doesn't write as much. I hope she's doing alright."

Humming through her nose, Caledith leaned against one of the columns supporting the awning over their porch. Age had taught her not to worry so much, especially when she'd seen enough of the world to make rather accurate predictions about it. "Cioniel took a bit longer to grow into herself...so to speak. She was born before immortality, just like me; her time is short. I know she doesn't keep in touch as well. But I also know that she thinks of us all the time, and that she needs to continue searching for her place in life." As much as she missed her oldest daughter, she grinned, feeling no sense of detachment. "It took her twelve thousand years, but she found her calling having adventurers. And if she continues by herself for the rest of my brief time in this life, then I'll still be happy. She needs to live her own life."

Fewen's youth showed again when she frowned at the statement. Since the older generations of their people had begun to pass away, those who had older members of the family felt the pain that other races had grown used to dealing with. Night elves weren't supposed to die, as Fewen had once claimed, and that same sentiment showed in her face again. "It's not fair, grandma...you've seen so much. You've done so much. I don't understand why Teldrassil couldn't be blessed, or why Nordrassil's revival can't be blessed, either." Though she wasn't the weepy type, there was about as much emotion in the optimistic youth's voice as was possible for her.

Ever the optimist since their society had been changed forever, Caledith pulled her granddaughter close as they watched the children run around the pond.

"I don't view it as fair or unfair...I view it as life. We always knew that the Burning Legion would return; and when that time came, we didn't know if we'd survive or not. I lived a long life, and now I'm simply going through the same process I had always expected when I was but a youth in the same age as you.

"Perhaps this is strange for you, because you're young; you were born long after immortality had begun and never aged. And you have so many long centuries ahead of you, so of course, death is strange and foreign. But we all have our own realities: you're at the beginning, I've reached the end. I don't resent what has happened to our people. Part of living in tune with nature is understanding that everything is a cycle of death and birth; we are a part of that cycle again, and we should embrace it."

Fewen folded her arms around herself, staring at her feet much in the way that Caledith did. "I understand that life is defined by death. But I never had a chance to get ready."

"Nobody is ready, child. We can prepare the best we can, but we will never, ever be entirely ready. Some people claim they are, but I don't believe them. And that's fine; I've prepared and done the best I can. So my job is to just live my life and watch you and your mother and aunts grow; that's my reality, which is different from yours. For me, that's my reward, and that's what I want. And when it's my time to go, I'll be with your grandfather again." Caledith took her arm off the distraught youngblood's shoulder and rotated her shoulders so they were facing each other. "And don't you sit around and worry about what you can't control. If you want to make things easy on me, then live your life, do what you want to do and be happy. Because to see that, for me, is the greatest gift I could ask for."

Choked up at her grandmother's words, Fewen was caught between laughing at herself and trying to purse her lips as tightly as she could. Not forcing her to talk if she didn't want to, Caledith kissed her on the forehead and nudged her toward the little house that the two of them shared.

"Go on now, get inside. We need to fix lunch and then you need to practice your seed detection powers."

Nodding and doing as she was told, Fewen walked inside the one room house, rummaging through the finely woven sacks of fruit and vegetables in the storage wing of the dwelling. Caledith stepped back onto the front stoop of the porch, leaning against the column and watching the reflection pond that was ringed by both her home and those of her neighbors.

In the shimmering waters, she found a serenity that felt so similar to one night, vague and distant but still in her memory. On the banks of the First Well of Eternity, she and her husband sat, newlywed and starry eyed as they watched the magical waters shimmer. The good times stood out in her mind the most, and she smiled without tears as she could almost feel his hands around her waist as they chased each other barefoot in the sand again. Times were different then...but times change. And when they met again in the next life, she had no fear of admitting fault where it was due, and forgiving faults of his when they reunited.

Until that day, she'd watch over their progeny, content that they'd done the best with what they had and that the good times were far more than the bad. On that day, the cycle would start over, and she'd leave behind a legacy she truly felt proud of. And after that day, the cycle would continue on and on; and she prayed with the utmost optimistic hope that the clan she'd created would come to realize that the cycle couldn't ever be broken; that they had no reason to fear. More children ran by as another grandmother handed out acorn biscuits. Up in the trees, a wisp watched over the home, waiting with as much hope for her to join him, too.


End file.
